Novel & Cerita Silhouette Knights

The knights arrived to see half of the soldiers were already dead and had no supplies or weapons for them to use in their attack on the Silverhand. The knights attempted to defend the fortress for a few more days. Still, the outcome remained consistent: Abigail's forces seemed to appear within their defenses, catching them off guard. They eliminated the knights with traps, arrows, and spears in the darkness. This extraordinary feat brought Abigail's surname, Silverhand, to fitting prominence. Her enemies likened her forces to ghosts, able to phase through any surface and instill fear in anyone they encountered. The complexity of her attacks astonished the Kingdom's knights, as they did not e

He looked into the clear liquid for a moment longer before turning to leave. … The next morning as the sun rose a knight called Tiro Recto, looked down at the makeshift encampment from a cliff on the mountain. Behind him another knight, Bonito Sorriso, struggled to climb up onto the cliff. His struggle was comedic and rather loud, but Tiro’s gaze remained fixed on the black tents scattered among the tombstones. “How on Terra did you get up here so early?” Bonito asked as he stood up and brushed dirty of his armour. Both knights were wearing ornate, gleaming gold armour that reflects the soft, diffused light of the sky. Their armour is intricately detailed with engraved patterns and layered p

“You wanted a Luna who fights. Fight me.” Training. Right. That’s what they call it. We’re in the east yard before the sun’s fully up. Stone circle. No guards. No audience. Just four Kings and me. Theo sits on the edge, head tilted, listening. Kain records. Rook watches. Silas strips his weapons. Drops them in a pile. Knife. Two daggers. Silver chain. He rolls his shoulders. The sigils on his skin glow faint red. “Witch-wolf,” he says. “Mother’s breed. We bleed different.”

They had the split-second warning from their mentor to duck, in which all three Knights dove for the ground, Sophia taking Anouk with her, positive he couldn’t react as fast as they could before a giant sword flew over the place where their necks would have been and slammed into a tree. Another rogue Knight appeared, standing on the sword, critiquing the group of Knights on the ground in front of him. The lower half of his face was covered with a cloth mask and he wore camouflage armbands, striped pants, and no shirt. The strappings of his sword’s sheath formed an ‘X’ on his chest. “Aidan Grey’s a master of the silent kill. He is a bandit from the nearby village. Often called the Demon of th

she then asked in a teasing manner. She tried to assess the person who was seated in front of her, studying his features carefully. Arthur Knight, the CEO of A. K. Media, has a strong angular face and his dark hair was swept carelessly, parting at the sides. Long dark lashes hid pale blue eyes, the shape and colour were a familiar sight to her. The Knight siblings were all blessed with almond shaped and light blue eyes which were similar to Abigail's. He has strong broad shoulders, probably broader than Aaron's and if he worked out as hard as his womanising brother, a sculpted and lithe body should be hidden underneath that white and pristine Ralph Lauren shirt.

I prayed that we will continue to be a complete and understanding family where there is no conflict. I looked at the man beside me, the man who made my life complete. The man who made me believed that there really is true love for me. I smiled knowing that he’ll always be my side, protecting me and our future little ones soon. This man is my life and without him, I would be nothing. I rested my head on his shoulders and felt the solemnity of the place. This is my home, my knight in shining suit who would save me always. Ethan is and will always be my home.

he responded, his words carrying a sense of respectful concern. "Tsk. Shit..." That was a problem. The elite knights, clandestinely dedicated to the service of every lycan prince, posed a challenge that couldn't be taken lightly. Their exceptional skills allowed them to swiftly identify and neutralize any potential threat. Once their attention was drawn to something awry, the perpetrator's fate was sealed—hunted down relentlessly until they met their demise and were laid to rest on the unforgiving earth.

They held cutlasses, boarding axes, and Imperial-issue pistols. And sitting on a barrel in the center of the ring, peeling an apple with a knife that looked suspiciously like a dragon’s tooth, was Captain Silas Vane. He was a man of contrasts. He wore a coat of pristine white silk—stained at the cuffs with wine—over trousers of rough canvas. His hair was braided with gold coins, and his beard was trimmed to a devilish point. But it was his eyes that held the attention; one was green, the other was a milky, blind white, scar tissue spiderwebbing across the socket.

Only a few have ever known of their existence—a group of elites among elites—the Shadows. As their name implied, they operated behind the scenes, carrying out confidential tasks while protecting the duke and his household. Though lauded for its exemplary order of knights, the House used the Shadows solely for missions that should never see light. Knights that uphold the House’s honor in the light and elites trained for assassinations and espionage in the shadows—this lethal dual force guarded the House of Winston. Sylvia had a hunch that the sole knight that kept following her around was one of those elites. Of course, she couldn’t outright ask. Thus, she could only continue to be wary of he

Kelra roared, springing to his feet. They came from the shadows, not as a wave, but as individual specters. Four figures, clad in dark, non-reflective leather, their faces obscured. They moved with an economy of motion that was terrifying, their blades seeking gaps in our defense with surgical precision. This was not the brute force of Gideon’s warriors; this was the cold, professional work of master killers.